Part One – Two Years of Growth
Two years passed in the blink of an eye.
For most, two years would have been nothing but the slow crawl of seasons. But for Kaito and Soka, the years were carved into sweat, blood, and willpower. Day after day, their bodies were honed, their minds sharpened, their chakra refined until they were unrecognizable compared to the frightened children who once fled Uzushiogakure.
Kaito's path was relentless.
From dawn he would throw himself into the grind of physical conditioning. Push-ups with logs strapped to his back, squats in the sand until his legs trembled, runs through the misty coastline with weighted seals dragging at his ankles. His stamina grew monstrous, his body a vessel designed to endure the harshest battles.
But physical training was only the surface.
The true breakthrough came with his clan's mutated heritage—his Ryūtai-fū. For months he could barely summon the subtle pressure of air, but persistence rewarded him. He learned to bend the atmosphere around him, compressing pockets of air until stones cracked beneath invisible weight. Eventually, he refined his control enough to make light objects float, shifting pebbles and small blades through air currents that obeyed his will. Though clumsy and draining, it was a taste of what his bloodline could become.
Kaito's swordplay—kenjutsu—also evolved into something terrifying. He practiced endlessly against waves, carving arcs into the sea foam, his blade whistling in synchronization with his breath. Combined with his Ryūtai-fū, his sword strikes carried crushing pressure, making each swing far heavier than it appeared. Against wooden dummies, his blade didn't just cut—it shattered.
In ninjutsu, he pushed his chakra reserves ruthlessly. Elemental mastery became his second obsession after kenjutsu.
Wind Release: Compressed Air Projectile – sharp bullets of compressed atmosphere that could pierce through trees like arrows.
Wind Release: Spiral Wind Ball – a chaotic, swirling orb of cutting air, unstable but devastating when it connected.
Wind Element: Violent Wind Palm: – a jutsu that, by placing the palms in the same position, compresses the air and transforms into a long-range attack, it can also be used on ninja tools.
Lightning Release: Thunder Fang – twin bolts of electricity fired like fangs, crackling and savage.
Lightning Release: Lightning Tornado Dragon – a lightning bolt strikes, spinning, forming a whirlwind of electricity with the head of a dragon, attacking the opponent.
Lightning Release: Lightning Sphere – a dense ball of raw current, radiant and destructive, his answer to overwhelming defenses.
Each technique drained him, but he loved the strain. It was proof he was growing.
Meanwhile, his sealing arts advanced to levels rare even among his clan. His notebooks filled with experiments—containment tags, chakra suppression arrays, healing seals. He even dabbled in theoretical fūinjutsu to combine pressure control with sealing barriers, though success remained distant.
Soka's growth was no less astounding.
Where Kaito was raw force, Soka became precision. She trained tirelessly in chakra control, balancing leaves, flowing water streams along her arms, and splitting drops of rain into countless beads. Her command over fine chakra manipulation allowed her to begin practicing medical ninjutsu.
At first, her hands trembled, burns forming as her chakra surged too violently. But slowly, her touch became gentle, her chakra smooth. She learned to mend cuts, close punctures, and even soothe her own fatigue. Though far from a master healer, she carried the essence of one—stabilization in chaos.
She did not neglect offense either. Fire bloomed from her lips in blazing spheres—
Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu, scorching the coastline during their sparring.
Fire Release: Mythical Fire Flower Technique, a jutsu that sends multiple blasts of fire from the mouth, usually with one target in mind. Shurikens can also be hidden inside the flames, creating an element of surprise.
Fire Release: Dragon Fire Technique, a jutsu that sends a stream of fire towards the opponent. In some cases it has been seen to take on the form of a dragon. Capable of being used like a flamethrower, prolonged exposure has been known to transform boulders and cliff side's into molten piles of magma.
Water Release: Water Dragon Whip, the user creates a sphere of water, from which many sharp water whips emerge and slash toward one or more targets to stab them. The whips can also change direction, tilting to seek out their targets.
Water Style: Water Pistol, condensed streams of pressurized water sharp enough to cut bark.
Her taijutsu took a different route than Kaito's brute style. Soka's movements were quick, minimal, designed to slip between guards and strike weak points. In training matches, her palm strikes landed precisely on pressure spots, leaving Kaito's arms numb or his legs faltering.
Her fūinjutsu knowledge also grew—especially in supportive seals. She created tags that enhanced their stamina, seals that absorbed small amounts of incoming chakra, even rudimentary traps. Where Kaito destroyed, Soka supported and balanced.
Together, they became a two-person army.
Not yet elite jōnin, but their growth placed them leagues above average shinobi. And still, they pressed on, never satisfied.
Because they remembered.The fire. The screams. Their clan. Their blood.
Part Two – Decisions by the Shore
The sea whispered as waves broke gently on the sandy shore of the Land of Waves.
Kaito sat cross-legged, fishing pole propped against a rock, eyes fixed on the distant horizon. The salty wind brushed against his scarred chest, but his mind was far from the quiet shore.
He thought of Kushina Uzumaki. By this age, she had been sent to Konoha, bound to the destiny of the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki. She bore a burden heavier than mountains.He thought of Minato Namikaze, prodigy of Konoha, already a graduate, racing ahead toward greatness.
And here he sat. Stronger, yes. But was strength in isolation enough?
Soka's voice pulled him from the spiral. "You're quiet again, Kaito."
She stood behind him, her red hair tied loosely, eyes bright yet concerned. Over the years, she had become his anchor. Where his anger threatened to drown him, her steadiness kept him grounded.
"I'm just… thinking."
"About the past?" she guessed.
"No." His gaze hardened at the waves. "About the future."
She stepped closer, curiosity in her tone. "What kind of future?"
Kaito finally turned to her. His expression was sharp, resolute. "We can't stay here. Not forever. If we hide in this village, we'll rot. Kushina is already carrying a bijū. Minato has a head start on his path to Hokage. And us? We've grown, yes… but training without real battle is a cage."
Soka's lips pressed into a thin line. She knew he was right. Their sparring, their training, their improvements—it all meant nothing without blood to temper it.
"You're suggesting…"
"We go to war," he said bluntly. "The Second Great Shinobi War has already begun. And the Land of Rain… it's at the center of it. If we want to grow—if we want to carve our names into this world—then that's where we need to be."
Silence stretched between them, filled only by the tide.
Finally, Soka smiled faintly. "I knew you'd say something reckless."
Kaito smirked. "So? Will you follow me?"
"Of course." Her answer was immediate. "Always."
They planned quickly, their conversation shifting from philosophy to logistics.
They would pack light: weapons, seals, stored rations. They would sell what remained of their animal furs for coin. They would buy passage back toward Amegakure, where borders blurred in constant battle.
It was dangerous. Perhaps suicidal. But it was the path of shinobi. And both of them felt the fire of their clan burn brighter with the decision.
That night, as they prepared their packs, Kaito found himself staring at his blade, the metal reflecting his determined eyes.
"Strength is everything," he whispered. "And I won't waste time in peace while the world forges warriors in war."
Part Three – Toward the Battlefield
The morning they departed was gray and heavy. The sea churned beneath the boat as gulls circled overhead.
Kaito and Soka stood at the deck's edge, the Land of Waves shrinking behind them. Ahead lay storm clouds—and the Land of Rain.
Hours passed. The sky grew darker. Thunder rumbled distantly. Then—on the horizon—shadows appeared. Tiny black specks, dancing, colliding, vanishing in bursts of smoke and fire.
Soka narrowed her eyes. "Are those…?"
"Ninjas," Kaito answered, a smile tugging at his lips. "Already fighting."
The sight thrilled him. The chaos, the explosions—it was proof of power, proof of struggle. His blood raced.
"Hope they're strong," he muttered, his smirk widening. "The weak… they disgust me."
"Madara's words," Kaito thought.
The boat drew closer, the battlefield sounds growing louder—shouts, detonations, the metallic clang of steel. The air itself vibrated with tension, heavy with killing intent.
The boatman's face paled. "This is as far as I go." Without waiting for argument, he docked briefly, letting them step onto the muddy shoreline before fleeing, sails snapping as he turned away from war.
Kaito didn't even glance at him. His gaze was locked ahead, where smoke billowed and chakra flared.
Soka adjusted the straps of her pack, her hand brushing her kunai pouch. "Well… no turning back now."
Kaito's sword was already drawn, its edge glinting under the dim light. His stance radiated calm fury, anticipation burning in his veins.
Together, they began walking toward the battlefield.
Their eyes burned with purpose. Their footsteps carried the weight of destiny.
"Time to get serious," they thought in unison.
The storm of the Shinobi World War awaited.
And the children of Uzushiogakure stepped forward to meet it.